


(please) don't take my sunshine away

by minyardmonster



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Angst, Dissociation, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of canon abuse, Mentions of car crashes, Nightmares, Scars, Self Harm Scars, Suicidal Idealisation, Suicidal Thoughts, also idk american smokes please dont lynch me, andrew smokes what i smoke, but nothing explicit, depersonaliation, derealsation, i guess?, learning how to live, okay listen i dont know anything about SC weather so i wrote it like it's melbourne, this is andriel learning how to talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:34:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26692273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minyardmonster/pseuds/minyardmonster
Summary: The blinding love that radiated from Neil lit a fury inside Andrew. How dare he care so deeply for him, for another monster, for something so broken. He hated Neil, hated his love, hated that he didn’t hate either of those things at all. Andrew wished, not for the first time, that he had never seen, never met Neil fucking Josten-or how Neil and Andrew go from surviving to thriving in 2k or less.
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 10
Kudos: 147





	(please) don't take my sunshine away

It had been awhile since Andrew had needed this, the roar of the maserati’s engine in his ears as he surpassed the speed limit and overtook the surrounding cars. He can feel the beginnings of blisters forming on the inside of his palms from how tightly he’s gripping the steering wheel. It had been nightmares, something Andrew was well acquainted with, but instead of hands that left him broken and bleeding it was the gleam of a butcher’s knife, and the gleam of fear in Neil’s eyes.

Andrew had always been afraid of becoming the monster that finally broke Neil Josten, and his subconscious had devoured the insecurity whole. The nightmare placed Andrew in Neil’s Father’s shoes, cruel and unrelenting as he made Neil bleed and cry over and over again. He could still feel the ghost of the cleaver in his clenched fists. When he’d awoken with a start, a sweaty mess, he’d woken up Neil, too, and oh how he couldn’t stand the sight of concern in those icy blue eyes. 

So here he was, driving, but not entirely present. Andrew turned a corner, heard the squeal of rubber burning, and wondered briefly what it would be like to crash. It wouldn’t be his first time trapped inside mangled metal, but this time there was no one beside him. No chance of waking up against the broken glass of the dashboard, a dead women who shared too many features but nothing important with him dead above him. He had never intended to survive that, and since, Andrew often felt like he was living just to die.

_ Living just to feel.  _ His mind supplies unhelpfully. That was half the issue, wasn’t it? That Neil Josten made him  _ feel  _ and he hadn’t been ready for that. There was another corner, another shriek of rubber, pressing closer and closer to something he wasn’t sure he’d care to survive. He thinks of Tilda, and how she’d left him to rot at the festering hands of foster care. He thinks of Cass, how desperate he had been for a family, for a  _ mother,  _ and he thinks of her hand on his shoulder and the sad smile on her face when she’d said; “I’m sure it was just a misunderstanding, ‘drew. Drake has always had a funny way of expressing his love.”

There is a tipping point, where he comes up to an intersection heavy with traffic, where Andrew wonders if they’d ever loved him at all. The light turns red. Andrew thinks of Betsy and her warm coco and warmer smiles and how she was the closest thing to a mother he’d ever had. He slows, stops at the light, and waits for it to turn green.

So, not tonight, then.

Eventually Andrew comes to a stop outside a local park. He’s not familiar with the neighbourhood and he doesn’t care to check, besides, it’s well enough into the AM he’s sure to be the only person here. It’s cold outside of the maserati, the late night spring chill sharp against his bare shoulders. Andrew briefly wishes he’d brought a jacket, wasn’t Neil always telling him to keep a spare in the car?

“ _ South Carolina’s weather is so finicky, Andrew. You need to be prepared for it to change.” Neil had rolled his eyes, shrugging off his own jacket and handing it to Andrew. When the blonde made no move to take it Neil draped it over his shoulder. “You can’t work the goal if you catch a cold.” _

_ Andrew ripped the jacket off his shoulder and bregrudenly shouldered it on. He tried to not think about how it smelt of Neil, like fresh fruit and shitty shampoo. He tried not to think about the large JOSTEN 10 currently displayed on his back as they walked across campus, a declaration, a claim. He did not succeed. _

_ “Junkie.” _

Maybe the junkie had been right, but that wasn’t going to help his bare shoulders now, so there was no point dwelling on it further. The sky was clear above him, and the stars were easily visible from where he’s perched on the swing set, idly swaying back and forth. The stars always reminded him of Neil, a constellation of thoughts and patterns, something beautiful that made a whole. Neil never felt so far away, though, so maybe the stars weren’t the best comparison. There’s the ever present itch for a cigarette, but he’d left in such a haste he hadn’t picked up his packet. He hadn’t even thought to put on his black armbands, having taken up sleeping without them when sharing a bunk with Neil. 

The silver slivers across his arms made his stomach clench painfully. He had reasoned with himself that the bands had been because he was tired of the looks people gave him, and at some point it got too hot for year round long sleeves, and eventually they’d become an easy excuse to hide his seaths and Renee’s knives.He knows, though, it had always been for his own benefit. Seeing the worn battle field of his skin always left him unfeeling and hollow, they were the remnants of a job he’d never been able to see through. He was not sure he knew how to live with the ghost of this, that he would ever be doing more than just  _ survive. _

Neil had been the only person to never flinch away from the scars. Hadn’t even battered an eye, and every time he saw them after he took more and more care with them. Almost as if he loved them, loved every part of Andrew, past, present and future, no matter how damaged and fucked up. The blinding love that radiated from Neil lit a fury inside Andrew. How  _ dare _ he care so deeply for him, for another monster, for something so broken.

He hated Neil, hated his love, hated that he didn’t hate either of those things at all.

Andrew wished, not for the first time, that he had never seen, never  _ met  _ Neil fucking Josten. Had never let the other man let him feel, because it was beginning to be all too much. It hurt to be so raw and open, to have Neil look at him and have it feel like he’d ripped his own heart out and placed it cleanly on a platter for Neil to keep. Let Neil eat him whole, devour every last inch of him, there wasn’t much left anyway. If he could be anyone at all, he’d never be Andrew Minyard again.

It’s too late now, he can’t take any of it back. When he closes his eyes all he sees is Neil, and when he reaches up to the sky, cold and all alone on that swing set, all he craves is Neil’s touch. There is no coming back from this, there is no saving him.

Andrew gets back to Palmetto as the sun is rising, and waits for Neil to say something. He doesn’t just smiles knowingly and hands Andrew a ready made cup of coco. There’s two marshmallows floating in it, one pink and one white. It’s fiveralous and stupid but it’s also his favourite. Neil leaves for his morning run and Andrew drinks in silence. If he could be anyone at all, he’d be Andrew Minyard besides Neil Josten.

-

It’s one of the rare instances where Andrew is asleep and Neil is awake. They’re both cramped into Andrew’s top bunk, Andrew’s back flat against the wall and his body curled in on itself. He’d fallen asleep gripping Neil’s hand, and Neil can’t bring himself to let go, even if his arm is falling asleep. It almost feels like he’d be snapping a live wire in half, like if he let go of Andrew’s hand he’d be losing part of himself. Andrew had helped him find every part of himself, collected every missing piece of the Neil Josten puzzle and assembled them so quietly, so diligently Neil hadn’t even been aware himself until he was making the name real with Andrew there beside him. Andrew was intertwined in everything that made up Neil, and maybe they were just holding hands, but it felt a visual representation of that connection. 

_ My soul is yours,  _ Neil thought, watching the steady rise and fall of Andrew’s chest.  _ I’ve no need for it anymore. Have it all. _

He could never offer his heart, it would never be enough. Andrew deserved the very core of Neil’s being, and that’s what he would get. Neil had never been allowed to think of a future before, and in the brief instances he had it had been filled with bloodshed and bodies riddled with bullet wounds. All that had ever awaited him was death, but now all he saw was  _ Andrew, his Andrew, always Andrew.  _ He saw  _ life.  _

When people looked at Andrew they saw storm clouds and the threat of a hurricane, but Neil had only ever seen sunshine. Perhaps not in the traditional sense, but he always felt warm with Andrew. Safe in the kind of way only the summer sun can make you feel. He would fight tooth and nail, down to the last bloody bone, to keep that for as long as the world would allow and then some.

In his sleep, Andrew shifted, turning onto his other side, back to Neil. This wasn’t uncharted territory, just unfamiliar. The first time Andrew had shifted in his seat Neil had felt like he’d somehow betrayed his boyfriend’s trust and hastily woken him up, earning an elbow to the face for his efforts.

_ “You idiot, what are you doing?” Andrew didn’t sound annoyed, just tired, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He motioned towards the bruise quickly forming around Neil’s eye, but was waved off, both parties knew it had not been intentional.  _

_ “You moved, I didn’t know if it was okay.” _

_ Neil watched, waiting as Andrew processed what had just been said. The silence between them wasn’t tense, it never was, but Neil found himself fidgeting restlessly nonetheless. Eventually though, Andrew looked back up at him, and Neil was relieved to see sunshine behind those hazel eyes.  _

_ “Ask me.” _

_ Oh. _

_ “Andrew, yes or no?” _

_ Andrew rolled his eyes, as if he hadn’t been the one telling Neil to ask him, before laying back down beside him, pulling Neil’s arm down with him so he was snug behind him. “It’s a yes, junkie.” _

_ Andrew didn’t stop him when he wrapped an arm around his waist, their bodies flush together. This was trust, this was being safe, this was being  _ loved  _ and this was  _ home.

Neil wrapped an arm around Andrew’s waist, waiting for any sign of reaction, when he received none, he pulled the other in close. No resistance, no alarms, nothing that could ever hurt them again. Neil didn’t believe he’d done enough to earn what these actions meant from Andrew. The weight they carried was immense, heavy with all the things his mouth wouldn’t let him say. Even if he didn’t feel deserving, he’d never turn this away.

Perhaps he’d always been greedy in nature. Greedy for Exy, for time, for his family, for love. He’d been allowed so much in so little time, it had been almost overwhelming, and now all he ever wanted was  _ more.  _ But  _ more  _ was not the same as  _ take  _ and Neil would never indulge in what had not been readily given to him.

They’d stopped playing their truth for truth game long ago, both having run out of secrets to share, but laying here, his head tucked into Andrew’s neck, Neil thought he might have one more secret to give.

_ I love you. _

He hoped one day he could trust himself to say it.

-

Andrew had always admired the way Neil spoke so easily, the way he chattered about absolutely nothing with Dan and Matt. Andrew had always struggled with words, it was so much easier to  _ do  _ than to explain. His thoughts always seemed to get away from him when he tried to convey them verbally. At some point, Andrew stops hearing the constant flow of conversation from the other three in the room, but he knows they’re still talking.

He’s not sure what’s brought on the sudden bout of dissociation but maybe he’s gotten too in his head, his hands feel fuzzy, and breath feels like trying to come up for air. Abruptly, he stands and makes to leave the room. He knows Boyd and Wilds won’t question his unusual behaviour, and he’s not surprised when Neil follows behind him, following him all the way up to the roof.

He sits there on the edge, his legs dangling off the edge. His pulse spikes, a tell tale sign of fear, but still his vision blurs around him. He’s vaguely aware of Neil sitting down beside him and reaching into the pocket of his hoodie to retrieve his back of JPS Reds and lights one for the two of them. The smoke burns in his lungs and it brings some attention back to his surroundings, but still he feels disconnected from his body.

There’s a burning sensation at his fingertips, and too late he realises he’s let the cigarette burn down to the filter, singeing his fingers. When he drops it in his lap Neil is quick to brush it away and off the roof. He thinks he hears Neil ask him yes or no, and feels his mouth answer yes on base instinct, and really, when had that changed? When had the instinct to say no, flinch away and protect himself morphed into a trusting yes. He watches Neil reach out and gently touch his face and thinks;  _ Probably the same time I fell in love with him. _

“Andrew, hey-look at me.” Neil’s voice cuts through the fog in his mind, blue eyes a guiding light, easy to focus on. “You’re alive and you exist and you are  _ okay.”  _

They’re words Andrew didn’t know he needed to hear until they’re said. He knows he’s shaking, a tremor that passes through his body unwanted. He feels weak and exposed. Neil does not look at him like he is a rabbit caught in a snare, though, and lets himself lean into the ginger’s hand. Neil had always had a way of coexing the incoherent words from Andrew’s mouth, making sense of them, and putting them right back. He also knows when there is no chance his voice will cooperate.

Andrew is not used to being known so intimately. 

“Do you think soulmates exist?” It’s not what Neil is expecting to hear, and Andrew’s not even sure he was expecting to say it. 

“Do you?”

_ I asked you first,  _ Andrew wants to shoot back. His fingernails dig into the palms of his hands, the feeling slowly returning. The short answer is that he doesn’t, how ridiculous it is to think someone is made just for you. If soulmates exist then they are made, forged in truths and touches. A soulmate is a fantasy is something he’s never had the patience to indulge in. Why would he ever need one, anyway, when he already has Neil, who is so much more.

“No,” Andrew is sure he can’t say all that he is feeling, tongue still too heavy in his mouth, but he pushes on anyway. “But there is you.”

He lets Neil pull him into his lap, head rested on firm thighs, scarred hands moving softly in blonde curls. He doesn’t think Neil is going to answer the question, but then he does, and it pulls the air right out of Andrew’s lungs.

“People like us weren’t built for soulmates, but people like us weren’t built for love, either. But here we are, anyway.” 

They both know what's left unsaid, the word  _ love  _ heavy between them. Heavy because of what it carries, and what it implies, and what it promises. But also because it’s not enough. They are so much more than that, soulmates isn’t a big enough word to encapsulate what they feel for one another. Andrew doubts he’ll ever find the right word for  _ this.  _

He tries anyway.


End file.
